Consequences of Hate
by wisedomsdaughter
Summary: A new enemy rises from the dust that should have settled, and a new chapter splattered with mystery is being written. Rated T for possible blood/violence.


**I have been working on this for weeks, and this is the fourth edit so far. I'm really proud of this one. Enjoy, and tell me what you think!**

A cold whisper of air, dipping and swirling through the atmosphere, then melting and dripping away into nothingness in the heat. The burning touch of flame, the hot stroke of a fiery finger that set everything alight. The horrible crackling of an all-consuming fire, running its teeth over everything that he'd ever known in his past life.

Trying to run, to escape. Slipping on the ground, stumbling over roots and the thick layers of pine needles.

He was falling, falling. All he could see was the blurred outline of the orangey-red flames. How did this happen? He could remember nothing, only the cool air that had kissed his cheeks for a brief moment and then the unbearable heat.

Think, think! His brain was all mixed together like cake batter, misty like the panes of glass he frosted every winter. Can't think. Can't breathe. Falling, falling.

"How dreadful," Jamie's mother thought. She shifted her weight to her left foot and pushed her new funky purple glasses up the bridge of her nose. "The whole forest!" She turned away from the television, where the news blared. She'd heard the news last night, watching television with Jamie and Sophie, and all three of them had been devastated.

"Police suspect it to be planned, but there is no evidence of gasoline nor flammable goods…"

She bustled around the kitchen, returning breakfast items to their rightful places and running the dirty breakfast dishes under warm water, ears perked to listen for any information about the forest.

"Searches are still being conducted so the forest is currently out of bounds…"

"Hey, Mom?" A voice trailed into the kitchen from the front door where her son stood, door flung wide open behind him, nose red from the cold despite the woolen hat perched upon his head and the scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Jamie," she smiled. He looked so cute right now, and she wished she held a camera in her hands, because she surely would not see this sight again once he reached his teen years. "What is it?"

"When will Jack Frost come?"

She froze at Jamie's question, letting the warm water rush over her hands. Forcing a smile, she called, "Could you repeat that?"

"When is Jack Frost coming?" Jamie stepped into the house, letting the door swing close behind him. "You know, the guy who brings winter and snow? Well, actually, he promised to take all of us" referring to him, Sophie, and his group of friends, "sledding, like, yesterday, but he never showed up. You're, like, Mom, so I figured that you'd know." He beamed at her, pleased with his little speech.

Jamie's mother took a long inhale of breath, and then let it all out in one gust. 'All right, tell him now,' she thought. 'Now's the time to tell him that his childhood icons don't exist anymore.' Instead, she found herself playing along. "Does…'Jack Frost' visit often? If he does, why don't you check all the spots he usually goes? Inside Burgess, of course."

"Alright! Thanks, Mom!" Before she could say anything else, like 'Be safe' or something, he had left, leaving the door splayed open. She smiled fondly and went to close it, shaking her head.

"Guys, guys, guys!" The group of preteens turned at their friends voice from their group discussion.

"Jamie!" Pippa squealed. "What did your mom say? When's Jack coming?"

"She didn't say, exactly, um, when he's coming or where he is or whatever," Jamie peeled his scarf off almost sheepishly as his friends groaned. "But she did suggest we look for him." He added.

"I suppose we could do that," Caleb replied uncertainly. "But where can Jack be? If he were here, he'd have come to see us already, right? Besides, he hasn't brought the snow yet; he might not even _be_ in Burgess." The rest of the group nodded thoughtfully.

"Why don't we look anyway?" Monty suggested. "It's only the first week of winter; Jack could just be waiting to ambush us." Everyone immediately cheered up and set off, scuffing their worn sneakers on the cold cement as they walked, hands inside warm pockets, listing out places that were their playgrounds. They crossed out places where there were large groups of people, quote, "I don't really need a bunch of people walking through me at the same time."

The first place they checked was literally a children's playground, one that was quite secluded, overshadowed by the bigger, newer playground. This playground had wood chips for a floor and plain gray metal monkey bars where the paint had been washed off, and wooden beams you could scale for fun. There weren't many things to do in that playground except swing from the bars and climb the wooden beams or sit on the ground playing other toys you brought. However, if you had an imagination like a child, and a cool Guardian-Spirit-of-Winter best friend who could honestly make the most boring chores fun.

It was clear the playground was deserted, because there wasn't really anywhere to hide there, and no chill in the air that was always there when Jack was.

Slightly more dejected, they set off to their next destination: the hill where all their sledding took place and the most epic of snowball fights. The hill was a gentle slope on one side, which was where their snowball fights took place, and a steep mountain on the other side, which was where their sledding took place.

When they were little children, Pippa would bring her top wooden top to the hill, and they would play with it at the top of the hill, always running to catch it before it tumbled off a side of the hill, often rolling down the gentle side of the hill with the top in their hands, or shrieking and clawing at the steep side of the slope and they fell.

The group split up to climb the hill, one half of the group easily scaling the gentle side of the hill, laughing at the other half struggling to get a grip on the yellowing grass as they climbed the steep slope.

It became a game to them, seeing who could climb up the steep side of the hill fastest. Occasionally, one of them would call out, "Come on out, Jack!" causing the rest of the group to crack up. There was no pressure to hurry up and find Jack, because what kind of trouble could a _Guardian_ get into, anyway?

Eventually, they continued to their next stop, the empty field where they had their snowball fights if they couldn't go to the hill. Cupcake had first joined in their snowball fights here, and Jamie had slid all the way to the statue here. Their snowball fight with the Guardians and Jack had happened here, but again, there was no sign of the newest Guardian.

"This sucks," Claude complained. "My feet hurt and we _still_ haven't found Jack. Where else would he go, anyway?"

"The Burgess forest?" Jamie suggested. "Jack _always_ goes there."

Claude groaned, but everyone else began chattering excitedly. That was true; if Jack were in a nostalgic mood of some sorts, he'd go to the Burgess forest and just sit there by the pond. None of them had ever questioned him, but they learnt not to ask him to play if he were in one of those moods.

"But the forest in Burgess…" Caleb stopped and gave all of them a horrified, wide-eyed look.

"It burnt down completely yesterday." Pippa whispered, hands over her mouth. "What if he were there yesterday?"

The five exchanged looks swarming with different emotions and ran off towards the forest in unison.

They skidded to a stop at the large crowd of reports surrounding the forest, panting. Shoving past the reporters and a few nosy people, they squeezed their way to the front and stared in horror.

The forest was gone. Worse than they had imagined.

Smoke no longer curled from the ash-covered ground, but they thought they could still see it, and the ghost of a roaring fire, the groaning and collapsing trees.

A few stubs remained, everything else charred and burnt. No, how could that be? Where were the pine trees, needles still green despite the cold, laden with snow? Where were the last browning handfuls of grass? Or the ivy that wrapped itself on the tall trees to earn a few measly mouthfuls of sunshine? What about the pine needles that littered the base of the trees?

"Oh," Monty gasped.

"We have to go in," Pippa declared, her voice strong and determined.

All eyes turned to her, shocked.

"Jack could be in there, possibly injured. He's the Guardian of Fun and Spirit of Winter. If he really is in there, we have to get him out."

"You're right." Jamie nodded.

"But how do we get in?" Caleb tugged on the yellow 'DO NOT CROSS' tape running a wide perimeter around the charred remains of the forest. "Do we go under it or what?" He pretended to duck under the tape, stopped as a reporter grabbed his shoulder.

"You can't cross the tape, kid," the reporter said. "It could be dangerous in there. Monsters or something."

The group exchanged exasperated glances. They had played a part in defeating Pitch, the Nightmare King! Who was afraid of a few monsters?

They all looked at each other, coming to a silent agreement. Together, they ducked under the tape, Caleb shaking off the reporter's hand first. They broke into a run into the remains of the forest, people yelling at them to come back, but none crossing the tape.

Ashes were kicked up beneath their feet, forming dust clouds that made them have to squeeze their eyes shut and cough uncontrollably. Eventually, after much tripping over their own feet and tumbling onto the ground, the voices faded away.

The instant there were no more sounds except their gasps for breath, their earthshaking footsteps and the resounding thumps of their beating hearts that rang in their ears, too loud for comfort, they stopped.

Jamie leaned forwards, hands braced on his knees to support himself, trying to inhale as much air as he could but sift out the ash at the same time.

"Bad idea," Monty wheezed. He coughed loudly for a few seconds, shoulders shaking as he hacked up a lung.

Jamie winced in sympathy for Monty as a seed of doubt planted itself in Jamie's mind. What if Jack _wasn't_ here? After all, he _was_ a busy guy, juggling the roles of Spirit of Winter and Guardian of Fun, and he could very well have been late. Why did they even come? Why had they even bothered looking for him?

"This was a stupid idea," Caleb grouched, clearly having the same thoughts as Jamie had. "Jack may not even _be_ in Burgess. _I_ think we just overreacted and jumped to conclusions."

"Sorry guys," Pippa sighed, kicking lightly at the layer of ash on the ground, the ash flying in all directions and forming a cloud. Small clouds of ash kept dropping to the ground, mixing with the ash, looking as if it were wet.

"Hey, what's up with that?" Having recovered from his coughing fit, Monty frowning and pointed at the clumps of ash. "Is the ash _wet_? Why would the ash be wet? It makes no sense!"

"Maybe it's the sweat from one of us," Pippa suggested. "Or rain. Or snow."

"Wait…snow?" Claude stared at Pippa as realization dawned over her features. "If Jack were really stuck in the fire, he'd try to stop it, right? And with…"

"Crap," Jamie breathed, straightening.

"What? No! I meant snow! Jack would try to use snow to stop the fire!"

Choosing to ignore that, Jamie chewed on his lower lip in deep thought, a habit he had picked up from Jack himself. He tried to think about what Jack might have been thinking if he were really caught in a fire.

_"If I were caught in a fire, I assume I'd melt," Jack laughed. "Or leave a lot of water behind. I don't know, but I don't exactly want to find out."_

"That's it!" Jamie cried. "Footsteps! These could be Jack's footsteps! Remember? Jack said that if he were caught in a fire, he might melt or leave behind a lot of water. These could be his footsteps!"

Run run run run run. Pounding footsteps ringing in his ears, his whole body shaking. Vision shaking and blurring. Where was his staff? Got to keep going, got to keep moving! Fire! Turn around, go go go go go! Run! Hurry up and move! Nowhere to go, too hot, too hot! Falling, falling.


End file.
